


A Full House

by APgeeksout



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chez Mars draws a crowd on Christmas morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Full House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In the Cards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/333) by [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass). 



Keith woke early on Christmas Day, eager to get a jump on the morning. Greasy breakfast and Rankin-and-Bass, the handful of packages under the tree and some major-league Daddy-daughter time filling out the holiday itinerary at Chez Mars.

Even though it'd been years since Veronica was up with the dawn, dragging her old man to the tree with a highly-contagious case of the giggles, it was strange not to have her in the house this morning.  If she were home, she'd probably be nursing her first cup of caffeine and grimacing indulgently at the serenade of carols he'd inflict on her.  He settled for putting on a pot of coffee and crooning Irving Berlin at Backup while he slathered a biscuit with peanut butter for the big lug.

He wouldn't start cooking until she arrived - no one came home happy to cold pancakes and congealed bacon grease - but he did mix up the batter, thick and sweet and ready for bananas or chocolate chips.  Once he fried up the meats and the hashbrowns, there'd be more food than any two people could reasonably eat, but what were holidays for if not indulgence? He was cutting circles of biscuit dough with the mouth of a glass when the knock came at the door.

"Knocking? What is this?" he called. He wiped his hands, pulled on his own Sharks-colors Santa hat, and carried hers to the door with him. "Can't be that you've lost your key. I know you're not that hopeless with a lock-pick!"

That last part might not have been entirely inaccurate, even if he did open the door to find himself addressing it to a face rather less familiar than his daughter's.

"Eli. Merry Christmas. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Feliz Navidad, Sheriff," Navarro said, smiling uncertainly. The kid - and, because of Veronica, or maybe because he'd never stopped calling him “Sheriff”, Keith still thought of him that way - looked almost sheepish, standing on the breezeway in a button-down dress shirt, a white bakery box held out like a peace offering. "I, ah, ran into Veronica on campus, and she invited me to stop in for breakfast. I think she felt sorry for me, at work on Christmas. She's good like that."

"I'm pretty fond of her, myself." Must have been spending Christmas alone. Veronica had always had a soft spot for an underdog. Hereditary, probably.

"I brought biscochitos," Navarro continued, lifting a corner of the box's lid to reveal cookies, sprinkled with red and green sugar and cut into hearts and stars and doves and candy canes. "From Leti's Market. You know it?"

"Never let it be said that the Mars family turned away a man who came bearing lard-based baked goods from the best bakery on Felicitas Avenue," he said, stepping back and opening the door wider to admit his breakfast guest.

He put Eli to work chopping veggies for the omelet bar he'd decided to do instead of ordinary scrambled eggs, and they chatted about how things had been on campus since the Dean's death.  They both did a good job of not acknowledging how strange it would once have been, Eli "Weevil" Navarro casually handling a knife in the Mars family kitchen.

 

 

In the end, it took them a little more than an hour to get home from Logan's room.  He'd needed more caffeine and coaxing than she'd figured into her estimate.  Even now, he hung back in the doorway, dutifully holding the bag of wrapped presents she's kept stashed in the Saturn, safe from Dad's present-shaking and Backup's gnawing.  

“Merry Christmas, one and all!" Dad crowed, pulling a Santa-Shark hat snugly onto her head.  "I'm sorry I didn't pick up enough hats to go around.”

“Who needs embarrassing hats?” she asked. “These two are already squirming, so deep in the heart of Keith Mars territory.”

She reached out for Logan, both snagging the gift bag and drawing him further into the room.

“Help with the chopping, and there'll be some fried potatoes in it for you,” Dad offered, taking in Logan's less than bright-eyed and bushy-tailed state.

“You're a saint among men, Mr. Mars,” Logan said, offering a theatrical salute and shuffling to the counter.

“It is a holiday,” Dad said, turning to watch her arranging packages beneath the tree. “so I suppose I could take it easy on them. A gift to my only begotten child, out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Is that my only present? Because I would totally sell them both up the river for a pair of shoes. Or some unicorn figurines!”

She held out a hand and he pulled her to her feet. They stood together next to the tree and watched her entourage in the kitchen; Logan pouring coffee into four mugs, Weevil nudging a bakery box toward him across the countertop.  She smiled and looked up to find Dad watching her curiously.  She tried to suppress a blush, but was pretty sure she'd failed.  He beamed at her, but didn't say anything further.  

“Merry Christmas, Pops.”

He tucked her into his side and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “The merriest, kiddo.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
